


Meet the Prison Doc

by ImmortalVal



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Doctor/Patient Relationship, Inmate!Jim, Inmate!Sherlock, M/M, Prison AU, Prison Doc!John, Prison Doc!Molly, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, im bad with tags someone help me, then he gets better ok i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalVal/pseuds/ImmortalVal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is well known. Well known inside and outside of prison. Of course, some may respect him, others may want to bash his head in. Sherlock is well known. He is known to drag himself into fights. He is known for harassing the Clinic's doctor. He is known for many things, most of them are bad, but there has to be a good in there.</p><p>Somewhere. Maybe someone just has to bring it out. </p><p>In comes the new prison Doc; John Watson. A former military soldier and doctor. Who really takes no shit from anybody. Especially twats with brown curls and high cheekbones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet the Prison Doc

**_Meet the Prison Doc_**  
 **Chapter One:**  The Prison King

**[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]**

* * *

 

  
John sighs as he signs his name on the contract. "Is this really necessary?" He mumbles, squiggling the last letter of his name. "I know it's a prison, but is it honestly bad enough for a former soldier to be in danger?"

"Well, Dr. Watson, we like to take precautions here. Some inmates we have are rather..." The Holmes simply smiles, a cold gleam in his eyes. "...Rambunctious." He finishes as he slips the paper to his side of the desk. Mycroft glances over it, checking to see if everything was in order. He offers another smile and looks up at John holding a hand out. "Welcome, Dr. Watson, to our humble prison. I'm sure you'll find your time here rather... Interesting."

"Uh huh..." John grips the man's hand and gives it a firm shake. He lets go and pushes himself up out of the chair, grabbing his coat. "I guess I 'ought to go to the clinic then," He eyes Mycroft wryly checking to see if this was indeed what he was suppose to do. After no objections - really, there was no input at all from the man, just that ongoing, empty smile - he sighs and leads himself out of the office. John takes a quick glance around and then turns his way down the hall. He lets himself into the clinic, his eyes on the ground, his coat hanging over his bent arm. 

"Oh!" A small gasp of surprise sounds in front of him. John risks a look up and catches a petite women, her hair tied back into a ponytail, a labcoat draped over her small body. He grins, hoping she'd take him as a friend. 

John clears his throat with a cough before introducing himself, "Hello there, Doctor John Watson at your service. I'm the new clinic Doc." His hand is extended out for a handshake.

The lady smiles, bright and friendly. She didn't look like someone who should be working in a prison. Maybe a school clinic would be better. "Hello! It's good to meet my replacement. You can just call me Molly." She takes the hand into her grasp and shakes it with a small nod. 

"Oh, uh... No hard feelings right? I mean, I am your replacement and-" 

"Oh no! No, no, no hard feelings. It's alright, honestly! I quit, you see. I was offered a... a better job someplace else. I wouldn't be able to hold up both of these so I just decided to quit. No harm done, doctor, it's all fine." 

John grins sheepishly and lets his hand drop. He nods in understanding and places his coat down on a chair in the corner. "May I ask for some tips or warnings?" 

"Of course! I have to make it quick though. I got, um..." Molly seems to hesitate with what she decides to say. "... Got to go get ready for the new job! But, of course I'll give you some tips and warnings." She ushers John to take a seat. 

He does as she wishes and lets himself plop into the old office chair, his hands resting on his thighs. "Ready." 

"Ah, well. Don't make them mad. The inmates, I mean. They don't cooperate when they're upset. They won't dare to hurt you, but it'd make your job harder. Don't be soft on them either. They'll take advantage of that." Molly pauses with a sigh and wipes her forehead with her sleeve, glancing at the clock. "You shouldn't take too much time on these inmates. They're tough, they don't need babying. Just hand them an icepack or pain med and send them on there way." Another glance at the clock. 

John raises a brow at the glances. "You okay, Molly? Do you need to leave right now? I won't mind. Don't want ya' to be late..." 

"Sorry, sorry!" She taps herself lightly on the head, as if smacking herself. "It's fine, just a... A habit of mine. Although, I must go soon... Two more things, doctor. These are important." Molly sighs and bends down closer to John. "Be careful of Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarity. Those two are the worst here. Other than that... I'm sure you'll do fine!" She pats him on the shoulder and grins. A tinge of nervousness hidden behind it. 

John only nods, his eyesbrows furrowing together. He shrugs it off and smiles back at her. 

"I guess I should be going now! Good luck, doctor! I'm sure you'll do great!" Molly gives him one last glance and then hurries out of the clinic. 

The former soldier can only shake his head at the odd women, an honest smile dancing on his lips. He turns around and looks down at the desk. A file of every single one of the inmates was scattered on it. Hundreds upon thousands of files. John sighs and runs a hand down his face. He hopes to himself that most of them keep out of trouble. The clinic was only big enough for about 10 patients and he was only one person. 

Just as he was about to fix the folders, he hears the door slam open, the metal knob banging against the wall. He cringes. That's going to leave a hole and he is not looking forward to fixing it. 

"Molly-Dear! Seb decided to steal an apple and things did not end up well," A voice sang. A bit flamboyant, with accent that sounds Irish, with a hint of American. "Oh, who are you?" The voice rang in his ears, coming from right behind him. 

He turns around, coming face-to-face with an odd fellow. Short, dark hair, just a few centimeters taller than John, brown eyes that glinted with madness. Interesting. John kept his mouth shut, hoping that he'd look uninterested. 

"Come on now! This is no fun, say something! Who are you? Where did sweet little Molly run off to, hm?" 

"She left. Gone. Quit. I'm the new Doc now." John finally says, not yet saying any real information on himself. 

"Oh, is that so?" The man leaned closer into John, their chests almost touching, their noses bumping into each other for a quick second. John pushes him away softly and takes a step back.

"Yes. So, if you don't have any real injuries, I suggest you leave and just rest off whatever headache you came up with." The blond waves a dismissive hand and turns back around, his attention back on the files. He hears a quiet sigh and footsteps led off towards the door. 

"You'll be tough to crack, but you will eventually, doc! I'll make sure of it. See you around, bye!" The man sang again, the door shutting behind him. 

"Already ran into a crazy, great, great..." John sneers, running a hand through his hair and he pushes the files into one neat stack. After fixing everything up, he takes a seat once again, sighing in boredom.

Minutes tick by, no patients. Half an hour comes and goes. He's still alone. John lets his head fall onto the desk, his eyes drooping. "Where the hell is everybody?" He murmurs, his eyes closed. Just as he's being dragged away into the land of dreams, a loud bang echoes through the clinic. He jumps and spins around in his chair.

A man stood there, his brown curls matted against his forehead, a streak of fresh blood drips down the side of his face. His nose looks bloody and broken. Yet, despite all the injuries, the man manages to remain calm and cool.

"Who are you?" The stranger questions right away, eyeing John carefully. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

John raises a brow. "Uh, what? Afghanistan... And who are you, exactly?"

"Yes, of course it's Afghanistan... Well, I asked you first. Isn't it only fair if you answer me. Maybe then I'll answer you."

John scowls. What a cocky son of a bitch. "I'm the new clinic Doc. John Watson, at your service." He bows down, the best he can, in a mocking fashion. 

"Right, of course. Molly left, I presume. It was only a matter of time until she gave up." The man chuckles and strides further into the room. He takes a seat on one of the cots. "Sherlock Holmes. You have meet my stupid excuse of a brother, yes?"

Holmes, Holmes, ah! Yes. Mycroft Holmes. So his brother is this twat? How interesting. "Well, Sherlock, if you can just lay down for me... Maybe I can help you with your..." John gestures to Sherlock's injuries. "...Problem"

Sherlock didn't do anything for the next couple of seconds. He did not reply, nor did he do as John told him to do. Instead, he eyed the doctor over. His eyes taking in every thing he saw and observed. His mind began to churn, deducing every little fact on the new clinic doc who stood in front of him.

Finally, after a minute or two, Sherlock opened his mouth. He clicked his tounge and then smiled, "Ah..." He breathes out, before pushing himself off of the cot. He brushes past John and picks up a roll of bandages, tossing it up into the air before catching it once more.

"Um, what exactly are you doing, if I may ask?" John breaks the unnerving silence that took over the clinic.

"Nothing and everything, dear doctor. Now, I will just be taking this," He waved the roll in front of John's face, "And I shall take my leave. Farewell doctor, you'll be seeing me more in the future, I'm sure..." Sherlock offers once last grin, showing off teeth yet showing no real emotion, before striding out of the clinic, shutting the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> First story. Excited. Yes, yes, hoped you liked this. More to come. Okay, farewell.


End file.
